Caught In Lies
by dewdropsunlight
Summary: A mass murderer is the only person Sherlock Holmes has been beat by. Now 7 years later, a murder occurs that is almost identical to the ones done by "The Countess". Sherlock will have to join up with Kitty, Lestrade's police partner, to help solve this. Yet, Kitty isn't all she seems or says. Can Sherlock also unravel the mystery of this woman while solving this murder?
1. Chapter 1

"Who are you?"

"I have many names, but I prefer The Countess." He looked around desperately, trying to find where the voice was coming from.

"Why am I here?"

"So many questions. You're here," a slender figure stepped out from behind the wall. "Because I need to send someone a message." The silhouette of a gun caused the man to panic.

"Please!" He begged, getting on his knees and putting his hands together. "I got a wife and child." The gunman, or in this case gun woman, said nothing for a while.

"They'll be looked after." Then a gunshot sounded. Clear and loud, the noise vibrated off the walls.

* * *

"His name's James Tillers." Detective Inspector Lestrade lifted up the police line for two men. "Killed around three this morning. Neighbors heard a gunshot and called." The three men walked up a set of stairs to a dark blue room. It was completely void of any furniture except for a shaded lamp that kept blinking on and off. All other light came from the lights the police set up to help examine the body. "I can give you seven minutes."

"That might do." Lestrade turned around and closed the white oak door behind him. "John, tell me what you see." John, the shortest of the two men, hummed for a second and knelt down to look at the body closely.

"He's married and died by gunshot straight to the forehead, probably a .28"

"Good, what else?" John hummed again.

"He was in the rain, seeing as his coat's still wet, so he's from out of town."

"Very good, missing almost all important information but you got a start. He's been married only for a few years, happily and has a child around the age of six. There's a small dog at his house, a terrier no doubt. A woman was the killer unquestionably, what else would get him motivated to come out here?" Lestrade came back in.

"So what do you have?"

"The killer is the same as the others. Also," the man hesitated and looked around carefully. Then he stepped towards the flickering lamp. "turn the lights off except this one." Not questioning the demand, Lestrade did so.

"What the he-" he started. On the wall in a type of ink said: NO MORE. "What does that mean?"

"Precisely what it says, no more. Now this is interesting." The consulting detective ran a hand through his messy locks in excitement. "It looks like our serial killer is working for someone."

"Who?"

"If I knew I'd tell you."

"No you wouldn't." Remarked Lestrade.

"No matter," the man turned around quickly, his coat flared behind him. "We have a killer on the loose!" Quickly he ran down the stairs and out the door.

"Sherlock!" John and Lestrade both called out to him.

* * *

**7 years later**

* * *

A dispatch came over on a police radio, urgent and requesting backup. There was a suspected murder down a few blocks from a large law firm and it seemed the crowd was getting a little out of hand.

"This is Larson. Coming right away. Over." Setting her car into gear, she drove towards the scene. Her cell, sitting on the passenger seat, started to vibrate. "Hello?"

"It's Lestrade...are you coming in?"

"Right now sir. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"You might want to hurry and call someone to get into the archives."

"May I inquire why sir?"

"You'll see when you get here." Lestrade hung up, leaving her puzzled. Obviously this had something to do with a previous case and if it's in the archives, definitely from before she came. Turning on her lights, the car sped up.

Arriving at the homicide scene, she was asked for her badge. Immediately after she walked into the building, Lestrade appeared with two other men. "Larson, this is Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson." Although she's heard of them, this was the first time meeting them.

"Why are they here?" There was no specific tone in her voice, but her body language showed that she wasn't thrilled.

"They worked on a cold case similar to this." Then her body language changed dramatically.

"In that case, I'm Larson,homicide division." John put forth his hand and she looked at it confused for a second but shook it nevertheless. Sherlock, on the other hand, just watched her. "Where's the body, Lestrade?" she asked, trying to move this along.

"Right," he motioned them to follow him, "it's through here." A red door with paint peeling off was held open for the four of them. "He was found by a worker, coming to clear away anything important before the house was taken down." Upon entering the room, several police officers and a photographer cleared out.

In the middle of the room, hands tied above his head and hanging, was a white male. Before Sherlock could start to ramble, she beat him to it. "He's approximately 34, give or take a few years. He's un-married and was probably at bar before this, there's a beer stain on his cuff from when he wiped his mouth. The large amount of money indicates that he likes to gamble but probably doesn't have much luck at it. He wasn't killed for it though." She moved closer to the body, ignoring the state of shock on Johns face.

"Now you see why I hired her." Lestrade commented.

"Died by gunshot to the forehead, clearly a .28." Sherlock butted in, "He's out of town, go figure, so the bar he went to is close by. Look at bars within five blocks within here and you come up with a possible four. She hasn't lost touch." He whipped out his phone and started texting someone.

"Sorry, she?" John questioned.

"Yes the Countess, as she calls herself, do try to keep up. She's back." Sherlock replied, not even looking up. Lestrade on the other hand was running a hand through his dark grey hair.

"I don't think it's the Countess." She voiced her opinion. All three men turned to look at her.

"How would you know?" Sherlock snarled a little. "You weren't there. You were probably still in college."

"I read the archive story. This is certainly her MO, but this isn't her." Larson narrowed her eyes at the consulting detective. "Go ahead and deduce me by the way, I was waiting to see when you'd break." She stepped closer to Sherlock. John in the background moved forward a little but stopped when Lestrade and Sherlock both put a hand out.

"You're about 30, un-married, and your hair is dyed. You're unhappy because you have a family but they refuse to acknowledge you which means either you did something they disagreed with or there was a large argument about what they were doing. Either way, no side is apologizing. You've seen war or something similar to it because your hand is constantly near the gun on your left side, meaning your on alert. Also you have a child around the age of seven or eight." Sherlock stopped, huffing a little. The room got deadly silent, no one moving.

"Not bad." She stated in response. The entire time she went unblinking, staring him straight in the eyes. "You got two, maybe three if you count it, things wrong."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did. I'm 24, and my hair is naturally this color, thank you very much. My family on the other hand, yes we don't talk but then again, you can't exactly talk to dead people. It would be a very one-sided conversation." Sherlocks eyes widened. "And my daughters name is Claire." There was a silence, partly because of shock and partly because no one knew what to say next. A phone vibrated, breaking it. "Bloody hell!" Larson exclaimed. "Is that the time?" She quickly walked out, then in like she forgot something. "I'm really sorry detective, this usually doesn't happen." He waved her off.

"I'll text you if we find something new." She smiled and walked out again. A few seconds later she was back.

"Oh and Sherlock?" His head moved to face her. "Text me if you find anything. Nice meeting you two!" With that, she was finally off.

"Who the bloody hell was that?" John asked.

"That was officer Kitty Larson. She came on the squad five years ago; kind of quiet and reserved but she's brilliant." praised Lestrade. "Although she doesn't get on with Donavon at all." He laughed, as if there was an inside joke. "Anyway, is there any more you can tell me Sherlock?"

"Not right now." Sherlock curtly answered before stalking out or the room. Upon exiting the building, Sherlock hailed a cab to take him to the nearest elementary school.

* * *

Kitty, short for Katherine, Larson got to Claire's elementary school just in time. Calmly she waited for her daughter outside the schools' front doors. When brown haired, blue eyed Claire came running out, Kitty knelt down to give her a hug. "Hey there, how was school?" She then stood up and took Claire's hand. Excitingly, Claire began to tell how she got to read in front of the class and her artwork was displayed in the hallway.

"Mommy, who's my dad?" Stopping abruptly, Kitty turned and knelt.

"Why do you ask?"

"Some kids were teasing me.." Claire's eyes began to fill up with tears. "They said.." She couldn't get anymore out as she started crying. Putting her arms around the little girl, Kitty picked her up and continued walking back to their flat.

"Your father passed away Claire. He went to go fight and never came back." Taking a left at the end of the school block, Kitty unlocked her dark blue cop car. "Come on, we can make cookies when we get home. I bought some chocolate chips this morning." The movement felt on her right shoulder told her that Claire was fine with that plan.

It took several minutes for them to arrive at their small flat. Unlocking the door, Claire immediately put her stuff on a nearby bench. Kitty smiled at the younger girl. "Why don't you go wash your hands? We can work on your homework later." Claire nodded and ran to the bathroom. "Take your shoes off too!" Kitty then went into the kitchen, taking out ingredients and some pans. The rush of water in the bathroom stopped, signaling Claire was done.

"Mommy!" the little girls' voice called.

"In the kitchen!" When Claire came in, she rolled up her long sleeves and pulled over a chair. Giving her the soon but still holding it just in case, Kitty started adding flour and such into a large mixing bowl. "And now we stir!" After a few minutes of mixing together the dry ingredients, they pulled out an electric mixer for the wet ingredients. Butter, maragine, and four eggs went into the bowl. On the table nearby Kitty's phone vibrated. "Set it for the lowest speed." she instructed Claire before turning to get it.

"Hello?" Kitty's eyes stayed on Claire, making sure nothing happened.

"Hey, it's Lestrade."

"You found more information?"

"Well," on the other side of the phone, Lestrade was nervously running a hand through his hair, "I was wondering if you had any plans tonight." Shocked, Kitty stood silent. Coming back to her senses a few seconds later she replied,

"Just working on homework with Claire and after she got to bed, look up some information pertaining to the case."

"Do you think... well would you and Claire want to meet me at Angelo's?" Kitty smiled, it would be nice to not cook for a night.

"What time? We're making some cookies right now but we should be done on about an hour."

"Great! Would an hour and a half work?"

"We'll be there." They said their goodbyes and hung up. Kitty hurried back to Claire. "Let's add the other stuff now."

* * *

"Hello Angelo." Claire attempted to greet the restaurant manager but it sound more like "Hello And-jello." He laughed when the girl hugged him.

"The usual Ms. Larson?"

"Yes please." Angelo guided them to a window seat. Lestrade came in a few seconds after they sat down. Upon noticing them, he walked over and took a seat.

"Hi Claire!" Claire scrambled out of her seat and onto his lap. She moved her crayons and coloring book that she brought over. "Hi Kitty." Smiling she responded,

"Hi Greg. Thanks for inviting us."

"No problem. I know it's hard sometimes for you so I wanted to treat you to something." She nodded. "Besides I have things to talk to you about." Before anything else was said, their food plus Lestrades' was brought over. Angelo winked at Kitty as he walked away. About a half hour of just laughing at jokes, Lestrade coloring a Dora The Explorer picture, and just eating passed, the list of things to actually talk about started.

"I want you to become my police partner." Kitty restrained from spitting out the sip of water she just drank.

"What?"

"You're a fantastic cop and I want to promote you to detective. There's an office right next to mine that's being used for storage and-" he was caught off as arms wrapped him in a hug.

"God yes." He laughed. She stopped hugging him and sat up properly. "I also have a question to ask you."

"Fire away."

"I've known you for seven years and," her voice lowered, "you know Claire's father isn't in her life. And with being a cop, there's always the what if when it comes to my life." Kitty took a deep breath. "I want to make you her godfather." There was a pause before Lestrade broke out smiling.

"I was under the impression I already was." This caused them both to laugh. "I'd love to." Looking at her watch, she decided it'd best to get Claire home. Lestrade and her both stood up and grabbed their jackets. "I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to." Kitty protested.

"No, but I want to." Lestrade picked up a sleepy Claire and walked out with her on his right shoulder. Kitty followed after and hooked arms with him. The walk to her flat was quiet, snow starting to fall slowly by the time they got there. Taking a sleeping Claire from her new police partner, she whispered a thank you. He kissed her on the cheek and turned away. As quiet and softly as possible, Kitty made her way up a small set of stairs. After a little trouble opening the door, she managed to get inside without waking Claire.

"What's your real name?"

"Bloody he-" a hand moved over her mouth, silencing her.

"I'd rather you not wake up your daughter." Kitty pulled away from the intruder.

"Sherlock?" She whispered angrily. Claire shifted a little causing Kitty to sigh. "Go make yourself tea, I'll be right there." Shooting him one last glare, she spun on her feet and took Claire to her room. Minutes later she walked into the kitchen. "What the hell Sherlock! This is my home and last time I checked, I just met you today." During her soft yelling, she stood on her tip toes and got down two cups. "Chamomile or grey?"

"Chamomile please." No other words were said until they both we're sitting with their tea. "Now, back to my question. What's your real name?"

"Katherine."

"No it isn't."


	2. Chapter 2

"Last time I checked it was my name." Sherlock abruptly stood up. He hummed a little, placing one hand on the desk and leaning forward.

"There is no Katherine Larson in the London area. So either you're not from London or Katherine Larson isn't your real name. You are familiar to London which points me in the direction that you lived here for more than seven years, so again I ask," his voice rose a little, " what is your name?"

"You can show yourself out, seeing as you got in. I still have work to do and I'd rather Claire not wake up because you feel like asking me pointless questions." Kitty stood up, and even though she was drastically shorter than him, stared him straight in the eye. We stayed there, locked in a stare down. When he finally made a move to leave, Kitty spoke again. "Text me if there's any more news please." Her voice was soft, very different from what it was last time. It wall less guarded. Sherlock didn't say anything to acknowledge what she said, but she knew he heard her.

* * *

Kitty woke up, her face on her arms and resting on the desk. After Sherlock had left last night, she had stayed up, looking at all the cases, trying to find a connection. She didn't find anything to prove it wasn't "The Countess", but she knew it wasn't.

"Mommy?" Claire's voice had been the one to wake her up.

"Yeah?" She mumbled. Instead of getting a response, she got her cell phone shoved in front of her face. Yawning, she put it near her ear. "Hello, this is Officer Larson." Laughter came a few seconds after.

"Sorry, this is just the first time I've woken you up. Everything alright? You're usually up before Claire." Quickly she looked at the time.

"Yeah I'm just tired. Why are you calling Lestrade?" Then the memory of yesterday came back. "There's a new body isn't there?" She whispered. His silence was enough for her to know she was right. "I'll be there soon, I just have to drop Claire off at school. Text me the address."

"Understood." He sounded hesitant."

"What's wrong?"

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked, getting up from her desk and moving into the kitchen to make something to eat.

"Kitty, it's Saturday." She swore inside her mind, wondering what Claire will do when she's at the crime scene. Earlier this week her weekly babysitter had called in and said she fell into some money and was taking a vacation.

"Greg..." she paused, "I have Claire and my babysitter can't come over. I forgot to tell you about this." Kitty groaned, mentally slapping her face. As she pulled out the milk, Claire came into the room with her pajamas on and holding her stuffed animal. It was a, now faded, purple bunny that had one too many patch ups done to it. Claire loved it though as it was the only thing she had gotten from her "father".

"Claire, you wanna help?" Claire nodded. "Can you get the cookies down?" As Claire went to go get them, she heard Lestrade talking. "Sorry, can you repeat that?" Kitty had jumped when it wasn't, in fact, Lestrade at all.

"Our landlady would be willing to take care of her."

"John?" She questioned in a high pitch voice, giving away how surprised she was. Then she came around. "Your landlady? You're sure?"

"Positive. I'll text you the address." She hung up, muttering a thanks. Her phone made a chirping noise, signaling John had sent her the address. "Claire," Kitty started, sitting opposite of the little girl who was currently munching on cookies. "I have to go to work today." Claire made a whining noise, threw down her cookie on the table, and put her hands to her face. "But on other news, you're not going to have Naomi for a babysitter today."

* * *

Glancing up at the door, Kitty double checked that this was the place John had sent her to. On the black door and in brass numbers, was 221B. Raising her fist, she knocked on the door three times. Some noises came from inside and pretty soon, a woman was ushering them in.

"You must be Officer Larson. John called. I'm Mrs. Hudson." Then the woman looked at Claire. "Hi Claire." Shyly Claire hid behind her mother. A sighing Kitty pulled her out.

"It's only for a few hours and besides, Mrs. Hudson is a lovely person." Deciding her mom was telling the truth, Claire stepped out further and ran to give Mrs. Hudson a hug. "Thank you so much, especially on short notice." Mrs. Hudson waved her hand at the comment.

"Good luck sweetie." Nodding, Kitty gave Claire one last hug before turning around to leave.

* * *

"Morning Lestrade. What do we got?" Now in officer mode, Larson picked up the yellow police tape and walked towards the empty looking building. It was an old warehouse that had been abandoned years ago after a fire broke out. Lestrade walked to meet up with her and led the way towards the crime scene.

"Male, age 23. Found by a construction worker who came to clear the building. We don't have a name yet but we're working on it." They entered the warehouse and took a set of creaky stairs to the third floor. "This way." He told her and made an immediate right.

"Are Sherlock and John here yet?" She was a bit blind from the police lights at first but eventually her eyes adjusted. In the middle of room, again, there was a male with a single gunshot to the forehead. His hands tied to a rope connected to the ceiling.

"Not ye-"

"We're right here." The deep voice of Sherlock vibrated around the room. Kitty looked up. John was standing, back straight, next to Lestrade. Sherlock, on the other hand, was finishing putting a pair of gloves on. "Why don't you start?" His eyes bore into hers, making her feel a little nervous.

"He was traveling, perhaps to meet someone but his clothes say job, so job it is. He likes to have his occasional drink and can clearly hold his liqueur." She pointed to a blended-in stain on his cuff. Upon closer inspection she hummed. "He has sawdust in his hair..." Images and words flashed through her head. "Do we still have the construction worker for questioning?" Lestrade nodded. "You're turn Sherlock." Kitty stepped away from the body and immediately Sherlock had taken her spot.

"Apple wood sawdust. It wasn't the construction worker, but he might be able to tell us more. He was married, unhappily though. She was going to leave him." He grew quiet for several minutes and just looked at the dead guy. It was John who chose to break the silence.

"Why is he faced away from the door?" Sherlock angled his head.

"Why indeed? Come along John. Nothing more we can learn here." He hurriedly took his gloves off and started to walk away. "Oh and congratulations Inspector Larson." Then he was gone, John following after him.

"How the bloody hell did he-? No never mind, he always does." Lestrade shook his head. "Well done Larson." He made his way out of the room as well. When he left, she looked around, puzzled as to why he was facing away from the door. Taking a stool away from the door, the one that would be used to take down the body, she stood exactly at his height. From this level she saw a faint light coming from the piece of wood. She questioned it and stepped down, not seeing it anymore. Looking around quickly, there were no other officers currently in sight.

"Let's make this fast." Kitty mumbled to herself. She went up to the piece of wood and peeked through it. The room she saw behind was half gone, most likely due to the fire. Her eyes moved, looking very cautiously around what was left. Her eyes stopped, her body completely freezing. In bold, dark red letters it said, _I'M COMING HOME._ Kitty jumped back and ran outside. Lestrade gave her a weird look but thought nothing more of it as she got into her car and drove away. He figured it had something to do with Claire.

* * *

Pulling out her keys, Kitty unlocked her flat. The sight caused her to gasp. Books looked to be randomly thrown, couches pulled apart and turned over in the living room. Utensils were all over the kitchen floor, and all their drawers left open. Her hand automatically sprang to her phone and started dialing.

"Hello?"

"John, where's Claire?" She could hear him pause, probably out of confusion.

"She's playing a game right now. Sorry, what's this about?" She let out a sigh of relief and set the phone down. After a few moments she realized John was still on the phone.

"Nothing, I'll be a bit late picking her up."

"Oh, that's fine. Mrs. Hudson has taken quite a liking to her."

"About an hour?" The time 9:47 shown across the room. Oddly it seemed to be the only thing left alone. She heard John agree and quickly said goodbye, hanging it up. Ignoring the plain fact that the clock wasn't touched, Kitty started to clean up. She started in the kitchen by putting utensils back. "Bloody-" she started mumbling cusses and hurried to the kitchen sink. Her finger was bleeding profusely and the water stung as it hit the cut. Looking around, she saw a broken plate barely sticking out from under a pile of spoons and forks. Minutes passed and she eventually decided to take the finger out of the water. Kitty would ask John later about it, seeing as he's a doctor. For now she chose a bright blue band-aid to cover it up with.

Finally she was done cleaning her flat. Almost everything was back in place. About halfway through she noticed that one of her wooden chairs was missing. She had been puzzled, out of all the things to take, why a chair? Never minding that, she pulled her car keys out.

* * *

"Come on in." John had opened the door before she even had a chance to knock. Readily she stepped inside, the night air having a slight chill to it.

"Where's Claire?" He grinned.

"Just be quiet." John led her up a group of stairs to an apartment. Kitty assumed it was Johns', but was fairly surprised when John pointed to two sleeping figures on a small red, beaten down couch. Sherlock had an arm wrapped around Claire, his head resting on hers. Claire herself was snuggling next to Sherlock, her hand gripped onto his shirt. When she finished staring in awe, John motioned for her to follow him. Together they went up another set of stairs. This for sure was Johns' flat. "Tea?" He offered.

"Yes please, two sugars." Glancing around, she made the observation that John liked order. A teacup was given to her and they both sat down. "So...when did they, you know, fall asleep?"

"About fifteen minutes before you came. He was playing violin and when he finished, Claire crawled into his lap and started playing with his fingers." He paused for a moment. "It was surprising really, I mean, it's Sherlock and if you've heard half of what he's like..."

"Yes.." She sipped her tea. "Oh! You're a doctor right? I overheard Lestrade mention it." He nodded.

"Yeah why?"

"I broke a plate earlier when I tripped and fell." Kitty took off the band-aid and held out her hand to show him the deep cut. John set down his teacup and leaned forward.

"Damn. How'd you manage that?"

"Picking up the pieces and not really paying attention."

"Well the good news is that you won't need stitches. Just drink lots of water and cover it up with something." He leaned back again and took a drink. Kitty jumped when some violin music was suddenly playing. "Sherlock's awake."

* * *

**If there's any spelling errors please inform me :) Chapter 3 should be going up shortly**


	3. Chapter 3

"He plays violin?" The beautiful melody floated up the stairs, and John and Kitty listened to it for a couple more minutes. "I best be off now. Thank you so much, I appreciate it."

"It's no problem, Mrs. Hudson said she was lovely." John stood up, taking the now empty teacups to the sink. "Why don't you head down? I'll be there soon." Kitty nodded and made her way to the stairs. When she reaches the bottom step, the violin music was much sharper than before. Taking a deep breath, she opened the slightly ajar door more. Standing near a window was Sherlock, eyes closed and just relaxing into the song. She leaned on the doorway watching him.

"Staring is rude." He spoke, making her jump a little.

"Yes, well you do it quite a lot too you know." Finishing up the song, Sherlock put the violin and bow down. Kitty's eyes followed the violin, not noticing Sherlock staring at her.

"How long has it been since you last played?"

"Too long." She whispered, her eyes getting a far away look. Inside her mind, she scolded herself. Sherlock watched intently as her posture went from calm to frigid. "Thank you for watching Claire." He grunted in reply and moved to where Claire was still sleeping.

"She likes the violin." He picked her up, just to have her snuggle closer to him. Seeing that she wouldn't let go soon, Kitty made a rash decision.

"Would you be willing to carry her to the car? I don't want to wake her." Sherlocks eyes widened, not that noticeable, dumbfounded by her question.

"Yes, I suppose I could do that."

"Thank you." By this time, John was at the top of the stairs, listening in. Changing his mind, he decided to retreat back to his room and leave the two alone. He had seen Sherlock like this before with kids when John and Mary had gotten married. Mary was currently out visiting a relative and so John was temporarily staying at 221B Baker Street. Meanwhile, Kitty was opening the car door for Sherlock to place Claire in. When he successfully did so, the door was closed and left the two people staring at each other. "Thank you again."

"It's not that much of a bother. She was well behaved." Kitty nodded and silence overtook them again. "I'm sorry for my behavior last night."

"It's alright, I forgive you."

"Right."

"Well I should be going. I have a feeling tomorrow's going to be a long day." She moved to open her car door.

"I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would like to watch over Claire again."

"Oh! I couldn't impose."

"Not to worry. Do you know where Bart's is located?"

"Yes."

"Meet me there at 8:45. The bodies should be there. Claire could be dropped off here before hand."

"Alright." Kitty opened the door and sat in the car seat. When she reached over to close it, she noticed Sherlock's hand.

"I'll get the door. Also don't knock, just come right in." Then he closed the door and walked back inside.

* * *

Kitty Larson woke about an hour early, the house was quiet and nothing was moving. She flung her lavender blanket off and stood up. Slipping on her slippers, she yawned and got up to make some tea. Turning the corner, the kitchen appeared as if nothing had shaken it apart yesterday. Every utensil was back in its proper place and the entire floor was squeaky clean. Kitty reached up and took out a mint green teacup and a chamomile tea packet. Sitting down after it was made, her brain slowly began to wake up. It started by having the thought of the clock and chair run through. Gripping her tea in her left hand, Kitty slowly made her way over to the clock. She picked it up, walked over to a walnut table, and sat down.

Putting the tea nearby, she picked up the clock to inspect it. There was nothing, no sign of anyone tampering with it. Kitty took another sip of tea and just stared at it. A thought came to mind and she turned the clock over. Rummaging around in a drawer nearby, she found a screwdriver. Carefully she took the bottom part of the clock of. After doing so, a small note was revealed, taped to where the batteries should have been. Taking a deep breath, Kitty unfolded the note. HOW LONG TILL HE NOTICES? LOVE, ME. As if electrocuted, Kitty jumped out of her chair. She looked at the time and even though she didn't have to be to Sherlock's in a little under an hour, she decided to wake Claire up and leave.

* * *

Her hand was about to knock when Sherlock's words last night came back. So taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked right in. From last night she knew Sherlock's room was one floor up and Johns was just the one above.

"Mummy, I'm tired." Claire yawned loudly next to her. Bending down, Kitty picked up her child. As she was about to go up the stairs, Mrs. Hudson stuck her face out her door.

"Oh hello."

"Hi Mrs. Hudson."

"Are you here to see Sherlock?"

"Well..." she trailed off, "I'm not really supposed to be here yet."

"Come on in, I'll make you some tea." Not wanting to be impolite, Kitty agreed and followed the woman. As the tea water was warming up, Mrs. Hudson told Kitty to sit, and sit she did. Claire herself decided to take a nap on Kitty's shoulder. After a few minutes, the tea was done and Mrs. Hudson sat across from her. The two woman could converse without having to worry about what Claire would overhear. "So, who's the father?" If not for Kitty being able to hold in her drink, it would have been spit out.

"There is none." She simply stated. Mrs. Hudson's face softened and her hand clasped onto Kitty's.

"I'm sorry dear."

"Oh don't be, he was one of the worst men possible." Kitty made a face.

"Well you had to like him sometime to…" Mrs. Hudson winked at her. Shaking her head, Kitty remained silent. "Oh." The soft gasp from Mrs. Hudson had told Kitty that it had been figured out.

"Anyways," obviously Kitty was uncomfortable with the topic, "would you be willing to watch Claire again?"

"Of course!" Mrs. Hudson gave her a large smile. "You've done a fine job raising her." This compliment made Kitty beam, after all, don't all mothers want to hear that? A creak on the stairs caused Mrs. Hudson to jump a little. "Sounds like Sherlock's up."

"I best go talk to him."

"Oh, bring him some tea would you dear?" Mrs. Hudson stood up and set out a cup of tea for her to take upstairs. Nudging Claire awake, Kitty gently put Claire where she was sitting moments before.

"I'll be right back okay?" Then grabbing the cup of tea along with hers, she made her way up the stairs. Pushing the door open, there were no signs as to where Sherlock was. "Sherlock?"

"In the kitchen." Taking a few steps to her left, she saw Sherlock hunched over a microscope. "You're here early." His eyes glanced up, the question as to why shining in them.

"Better late than never." Kitty simply replied back.

* * *

**Sherlock's POV**

* * *

Of all things, he hated when people lied to him. No.. actually he hated it when people thought they could get away with lying. Usually he could tell instantly what they were not telling but with her, he could not. And it bothered him immensely.

_Things that bothered him about her:_

_1. Her intelligence, dare he say she might be smarter than him. But where had she received her training?_

_2. Her name, Katherine Larson. Upon meeting her, he sent a text to Mycroft asking for all information relating to her. After a few snarky comebacks about Sherlock needing his help, Mycroft informed Sherlock there was no one named Katherine Larson living near him. There was one in Doncaster but that would, quite obviously, not be her. The strange apart about this though is that her daughter, Claire, was in fact a "real person". It was just her mother that was off any records._

_3. Her daughter. It's not that he has a direct problem with her, to tell the truth he had grown close with the girl even if they had only just met. No, it was her age and the fact that there wasn't any father._

_4. The next problem was the father. He scowled just at the thought of him. Yes, he, Sherlock Holmes, had been eavesdropping. At first he didn't understand why Mrs. Hudson had gasped but then it clicked. Rape. _

_5. Her. There was something extremely off-setting about her, and he was determined to find out exactly what it was._

Switching back to reality, he realized that Katherine, or Kitty as she liked to be called, was handing him a cup of tea. He took it and said nothing. When she turned away, thinking he wasn't paying attention to her anymore, she walked to the window he was playing violin. Yet another thing that bothered him.

_6. The violin had caught her attention, but when she said she hadn't played in a while, something crossed over his face. Sherlock had yet to decide exactly what it was._

Making it seem like he was looking at his microscope, his peripheral vision allowed him to keep an eye on her.

* * *

**Back to Kitty's POV**

* * *

She stared at the violin, her hands itching to play. Kitty knew better though, so she made a fist and took a sip of her tea. Moving around, she noticed a skull on the mantle, a large map of London on the wall behind the couch, books of all sorts of sciences, papers everywhere, and a large collection of laptops. Why so many, she probably won't ask.

"You can play the violin." Kitty didn't hide her shock, there wasn't any point to. Looking at Sherlock, he waved his hand towards the violin. "Indulge me. We still have twenty minutes before we leave." Nervously, Kitty set down her cup of tea and picked up the instrument.

Kitty lightly gasped. It had been years since she last picked one up. This particular one was, beautiful, if she had to put it in words. Hands shaking, her right hand picked up the bow. She closed her eyes and thought of a piece to play. Vaguely conscious that Sherlock was staring at her, she started to play one of her all-time favorite pieces, _Maybe_ by Yiruma. Soon, she was lost in the music, her eyes closed and just letting the music carry her away. When she was done, she opened her eyes to see John in the doorway staring at her, Mrs. Hudson right behind him. Sherlock's expression was blank, but looking closely, she saw a faint smile.

"I didn't know you played dear." Mrs. Hudson said, eyes brimming with tears. Suddenly uncomfortable, Kitty set the violin down and walked over to her cup of tea.

"That was lovely." John softly said, walking into the room now. Pausing for a few minutes, nothing was said.

"We should be off." The deep voice of Sherlock interrupted the quietness.

"Right." Kitty perked right up as she saw this as an opportunity to get the subject off of her. John grabbed his jacket off of a nearby post as Sherlock grabbed his off his chair. As they were about to leave, Kitty turned around. "Thank you again Mrs. Hudson."

* * *

**Hey guys! Thanks for reading :) Here's a link to what I was thinking about for the song she played. watch?v=OuJ97I8tMsA It's a long time favorite of mine. Take a listen (:**


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing that happened when the three arrived at Bart's Hospital, is that a woman named Molly Hooper pulled out the two dead men for them to look at. It was fascinating that she knew who they had come to look at. For the time being, no introductions were made. Instead, the bodies were the main focus. Unlike the crime scene, Sherlock paid no mind in being told to wear gloves. John stood off to the side and conversing. Kitty, stood at a reasonable distance, allowing Sherlock to study the bodies closer.

"Bag please." The second he asked, or rather demanded, he was given an evidence bag. He stuffed it in his pocket and continued on with his observation. Twenty minutes passed before Sherlock stood up. "Lab time." Then he walked off, John on his heels. Less inclined to be so close to Sherlock, Kitty fell in-step with Molly.

"Officer Larson, but call me Kitty." She held out a hand.

"Molly Hopper, pathologist. Just call me Molly, anything else makes me feel old." Molly smiled brightly at her.

"Okay Molly." Already Kitty enjoyed being in this woman's company. "So how long have you been here?"

"Years. Right after I got out of college really. The previous pathologist had a heart attack, unfortunately for him but fortunately for me." They took a left to an elevator. The conversation stopped until they reached the lab floor. "You're the first woman he's brought. Usually it's just John."

"Oh?" She made it to seem she was surprised but inside, logic told her the Sherlock probably doesn't go out with girls much. "How long have you known him?"

"Since he came. I'm the only pathologist that would work with him. You?"

"Just met the bloke two days ago." At the end of the hallway, Molly unlocked the lab door and pushed it open. Sherlock immediately went for the microscope and John stood nearby in case he needed help.

"Do you want some coffee?" Molly whispered. "We could leave these two to it. I trust no fires will start." Thinking the idea over, Kitty agreed. Silently they slipped out of the room and walked to the elevator.

"I'm sorry." Kitty blurted out, causing Molly to give her a questioning look. "I've never really had a friend before so I don't really understand how this works." Molly smiled warmly.

"It's okay, don't worry." The elevator doors opened to the bottom floor, the aroma of coffee floating around.

* * *

Finding a secluded place to sit, the two woman drank their coffee. Kitty had ordered a caramel flavored one and Molly had a hazelnut. "So you're telling me Sherlock faked his death?"

"Yep, fooled everyone really," Molly sighed, "I hated lying about it really and seeing John fall apart..." Wincing at the memory, Molly took a sip of her coffee.

"That's quite a feat to pull off."

"How could you not have heard about it?" Her eyes narrowed a little.

"I guess I never paid attention. I focused more on my daughter at that time than anything else."

"Oh well when he got back John punched him. Apparently Sherlock was trying to impersonate a French waiter and interrupted during John trying to propose." They laughed together at the idea.

"That's certainly one way to tell someone you're not dead."

"How would you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Tell someone you're not dead?" Kitty's eyes widened.

"What?"

"Oh," Molly wasn't sure what was so alarming about the question but she restated it, "figuratively, if you had to fake your death how would you come back?"

"Simple. I wouldn't." It was Molly's turn to widen her eyes. "No no, not to be mean. I just, I wouldn't want to go through any trouble and I think it would result in people being hurt more."

"I guess that makes sense. But you better tell me." Molly joked, causing Kitty to smile.

"Come on." Kitty stood up and threw her coffee in the trash. "We should go back up to the lab."

* * *

The second she stepped a foot into the lab where Sherlock was intensely staring at whatever he picked off the victim, her phone rang.

"This is Larson."

"We got another."

"Damn!" She yelled. Everyone else in the room looked at her. "

We'll be there soon."

"I'll text you the address." She angrily pressed the red END button on her touch screen. A second later, the address Gosfield Street appeared on her phone screen.

"We got another." Kitty spat. She was, clearly, pissed off. Three murders and they weren't any closer to solving this. Leaving Molly, the three ran to Kitty's car. Slamming the doors shut, Kitty turned on the sirens and rushed to the crime scene. Upon arriving, she noted that the murderer had chosen a very crowded place, that way no one could hear the gunshot. It was a shop on the market place street, two levels, the upper for the owner. This shop though, looked like it had been abandoned. Walking to meet up with Lestrade, she flew past Donavon. About to step inside the building, she heard Donavon call Sherlock a freak. Turning on her heal, she marched over to where Donavon was stalling Sherlock and John. "Step away Donavon." She sneered.

"Or what?" Kitty smirked, a gleam in her eyes. Instead of saying anything else, she raised the yellow police line for the two men. Giving Donavon one last glare, she ran into the house, having already wasted time.

"About time you got here. What was with Sally?" Lestrade questioned.

"She called Sherlock a freak." Lestrade glanced at Sherlock, seeing utter surprise. Then again, Lestrade would be too. John had always kept his anger for Sally's remarks in, so this was most likely the first time Sherlock had someone stand up for him. "Anyways, what do we got?" Lestrade coughed.

"Right. This one is 21 and quite different from the other two."

"What makes you think the murderer is the same then?"

"Gunshot to the forehead and the hands tied." Lestrade opened the door to the second floor. "Her name is Naomi Weathers."

"That's impossible." Larson said.

"Why?" The three men stared at her, waiting for an explanation.

"That Claire's babysitter." Her voice was dropping to a whisper every second she spoke.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." John and Lestrade said in unison.

"Listen, you don't have to do this. We can take care of this." Shaking her head so hard she thought she might get a headache, Kitty stood up straight and walked in. Sure enough, in the middle of the room, was the body of Claire's babysitter. Refusing to show sentiment, she walked boldly towards the victim.

"Do you need a chair?" John asked, the sound of a chair moving shortly after. Spinning around, she looked at the chair that was offered.

"John, get your hand off of that. That's evidence."

"She's right John." Sherlock was staring straight at her. A shiver passed through her, it appeared like he could see right through her façade. Hesitantly, John took his hand off, confusion showing. Rotating her body to face the corpse, she ignored Sherlock.

* * *

**Sherlock's POV**

* * *

He was watching her, every since she had yelled in the crime lab. Surprised that she shouted, he lost all concentration in what he was working on. Then she said there was another body, and for a split second he could see why she had yelled. Bodies were piling up. Yes, Sherlock would admit that he likes murders, the challenge, the new thing a serial killer always does. But that doesn't mean he enjoys people dying. Once again, yes people die every day, why should he care? He simply says he doesn't. Back to reality, he heard Donavon call him the one thing he hates the most.

"Freak." He was not a freak. He was a high-functioning sociopath. And then, something strange happened, she got told off...by Kitty. Internally he winced at the name. He personally thought Katherine was a more beautiful name, but he shook his head seeing it was her choice. Following her upstairs, he hardly paid attention to what she and Lestrade were talking about until she said something was impossible. That's when he really started paying attention. Her body language went from anger to shock. Her face showed disbelief and...fear. Curious as to why fear, he moved a little closer. Sentiment; the victim was Claire's babysitter.

* * *

**Back To Kitty's POV**

* * *

"Age 21, died around one this morning." Putting on gloves, she started moving Naomi's clothes around. When she thought no one was looking, she took the slip of paper out of the coat pocket. "Sherlock?" Stepping forward, he immediately noticed her hand slipping paper in her pocket. He said nothing and focused on the body.

"She smoked, about a pack a day. Nasty habit. Comes from a poor family and," he sniffed, "works at a fast food restaurant. His nose crinkled in disgust.

"McDonalds, the one two blocks down from my apartment." Kitty stated.

"John, your turn." John grunted and also put on some gloves.

"Her skin's cold to touch...maybe she was frozen." Lestrade turned to Larson.

"When's the last time you saw her?"

"Last week, she just informed me that she fell into some money. Told me she was going on vacation." Her voice cracked a little. Internally she yelled at herself, she should've seen the signs. Sherlock and John moved next to her, ready to go and not wanting to pay for a cab.

"Why don't you go home?" His voice soft, Lestrade pushed his police partner out the door a little. "We've got this covered." Not bothering to argue, Kitty walked out. Her fists clenched, she said no words to anyone on the way to her car. Opening her car door, she angrily sat down and hit the car wheel. Her passenger side opened and Sherlock slide into the car.

"Drive. John's taking a cab." Doubting for a second, she saw that John wasn't getting in. Sighing in frustration, she started the ignition and pulled away for the crime show. "Go to Regent Park." His voice was stern, causing more shivers to up her sign. Again, not wanting to argue, she turned right on Regent Street. Pulling into the park, she turned the car off. Tension, along with silence, was building and she wanted nothing more than go get Claire. Then he, Sherlock Holmes, asked the one question she avoided the most.

"Who are you?"


	5. Chapter 5

**This is why this is rated M. I'm sure it could be rated T, but since it mentions what she had to ordeal, I decided M would be better.**

* * *

Gulping, Kitty turned her body to face Sherlock. He had already turned to stare at her. As confident as she could, she replied, "I'm Katherine Anne Larson." Sherlock restrained from yelling. Kitty could tell due to his jaw muscles locking up.

"No you aren't. Who are you?" His voice was a lot deeper and threatening to get louder.

"My name is Katherine Anne Lar-"

"No it's not. Stop lying." Sherlock smacked the car. Whether he did that out or anger, to scare her into talking, or put of dramatic effect, it made her jump. The only sound was them breathing after that. "Who. Are. You?" He enunciated each word with force.

"I can't tell you." Not being able to hold his gaze for much longer, she turned away.

"Can't or won't?" Sherlock's voice was quieter now, almost comforting. Finding her voice, she started to whisper.

"I can't. I refuse to do that to Claire." This only confirmed what Sherlock deduced.

"Why'd you stop?" She threw a look at him.

"I did it for Claire."

"You're expecting me to believe that you didn't stop for yourself, at least a little bit. Biting down on her lip, she shook her head.

"It was mostly for Claire. I didn't want her to live the same life I had." She waited for him to interrupt but he said nothing. Kitty knew he wanted an explanation, his eyes were glimmering with all the questions he had. "Fine, you want the whole story? You'll get it. I wasn't even born when this started..."

* * *

Two parents, both in trouble with the law, slipped into a dark house at the end of a New York street. Inside there were men brawling, people drinking their worries away, and in a small corner sat the person that could help them. Careful not to run into anyone, the couple sat in front of the stranger. Barely anything was said and when they left an agreement had been made; they would be smuggled to England in exchange for their first born. Desperate to get away, the parents had agreed; they could always have more children. A month passed and the mother, seven months along in her pregnancy, and father had successfully "disappeared".

Over in London, where they had relocated to, the two slowly got back on their feet. A cheap apartment was given to them. When the time came for the woman to give birth, she had twins, two girls. The plan was then for them to meet up with the leader of the group in two nights. Upon seeing their daughters faces, the biological parents decided they wanted to keep their children.

* * *

"They were stupid," Kitty spat, "thinking they could get away, that they were smart enough to fool him. Later that night some men jumped them before they got onto their plane. The one twin died and police said it a was a blood bath when they found the scene." Taking a break between words, she took a breath. "The younger of the two girls was taken by the leader. Not much of a name, but he's called Drew; whether that's his real name or not, no idea. Anyways, the girl was brought up. She was home-schooled and learned a few instruments. Sine Drew took her in, she was treated like a princess. Her training didn't start until she was seven. Sometimes she was randomly jumped to test her reactions and if she didn't fight back, the pain would be worse. By the age twelve, the girl knew more ways to kill someone than become their friend."

"What changed?"

"She found out... about her parents, her twin, everything."

"How'd you react?" Surprised he acknowledged that the girl was her, she faltered a little when she spoke again.

"I was pissed and it sickened me. I'd been lied to all my life. I could've had a normal childhood, a family. Then I found out I was taken because they needed a new assassin." Sherlock watched her eyes soften. "I think anyone would be angry."

"So you left?"

"I tried." She winced, the memory coming to her of her attempted escape. "A month before I was required to kill those people. Someone I thought I could trust gave me away."

"You tried before?" Now it was his turn to be surprised. "What happened?"

"I was...punished." Kitty begged that he wouldn't ask for details; her thoughts went ignored.

"How?" She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory. While doing so, her body went into a fetal position. "Oh," there was a long pause, "Claire." Faintly, she nodded. Tears were running down her cheeks at the memory attacking her. "The murders, was that to prove yourself?" Again, she nodded. Kitty could practically feel his stare at her, not sure what he was thinking. She dared not look up when she spoke.

"I would be...placed back in my previous high position if I could complete the task given to me. When the...punishment was over, I decided to do so. I had no one else to live for, and escaping again would mean death." Wiping her cheeks on her sleeve, she sighed and looked up at him. His face was hard to read, but she knew what his face showed; pain, sympathy for her, some anger, and some confusion.

"How'd you know you were pregnant?" This time, she didn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at him.

"The same as how every woman knows, morning sickness. I woke up six weeks later, just after murdering the third guy, feeling horrible."

"Then-"

"Then I realized the possibilities that could happen when they found out I was pregnant; I could be killed, I could be allowed to keep my baby, they would kill me after I gave birth, or I could be allowed to give birth and then they would kill my baby in front of me to teach me a lesson. And there was no way I was letting them kill my son or daughter."

"That's why you wrote 'no more' before you disappeared. What did you do after? How'd you get back on your feet? And why the name? What was your birth name?"

"One question at a time. Do you remember that they last man I killed at a wife and daughter?" Sherlock nodded. "The daughters name was Lara, that's where I got my last name. My first name, Katherine, is from my biological mother and my middle name was a random one I picked. After I killed that man, I never stayed in one place. London wasn't safe for me at that time."

"Where'd you go?"

"One day a man picked me off the road and took me to his house. He never had children of his own and told me that it broke his heart when he saw me alone. So I stayed with him for two years. The morning that marked two years staying with him, he had a heart attack. I didn't want to stay in that house after that. I still own it, he wrote in his will saying everything was mine. I came back to London, got the flat I have now and met Naomi at the bakery shop down the road."

"How'd you get on the police squad?"

"I parked in the wrong spot one day and got my car tolled. Greg saw me and have me a ride to where it was taken. He paid for the car to be released back to me and told me to call him if anything else was wrong." Kitty laughed at the memory. "My boss kicked me out the next day because Claire had fallen asleep on his counter. I swear he had OCD. I called Greg and he offered me a job. Now you know everything, so," she closed her eyes, "turn me in." Kitty held out her wrists and waited for the cold metal to be slapped on. Instead a pair of warm hands touched hers. Opening her eyes, she caught him staring at her.

"I'm not turning you in." He pushed her hands away. Her response was her jaw hanging open.

"I d...don't...understand." Kitty stuttered.

"Neither do I."

* * *

**Sherlock's POV**

* * *

To tell the truth, he was confused. He should turn her in, she's a murderer. But he felt like he shouldn't, that it'd be impossible for him to do such a thing. John...John would know what to do. He was no good at sentiment, although John informed him he had gotten better at it over the years. Sitting here, right now, was a chance to show how much he's changed.

"What did you take from the crime scene tonight?" Despite the darkness, Sherlock watched her blush then calm herself down.

"I'm not sure, I almost forgot it was there." He turned on an inside car light for them both to read it as she turned her pocket out to get it. In blue lettering it said: YOU'RE GETTING SLOW SAM. BELIEVING YOU'RE BABYSITTER TO BE ON VACATION. SEE YOU SOON, ME.

"Who's 'me'?"

"Drew." He noticed her hands shaking tremendously. Before thinking, how rare for him, he grabbed her left hand and gently squeezed it. Slowly she began to stop shaking. "I need to get home, to Claire."

"Let me drive." The demand came out more like a question, one that Kitty agreed to. Getting out of the car to switch, she tossed the keys at him.

* * *

**Kitty's POV**

* * *

"Claire?"

"Mommy!" From Mrs. Hudson's flat came a girl, running and then jumping into Kitty's arms. Mrs. Hudson peaked out from her door a waved, then disappeared back in her house. Feeling the presence behind her, Kitty moved to the side to allow Sherlock to pass. In surprise, Sherlock put a hand on her back and nudged her towards the stairs.

"I'll make you some tea." By now she realized that these were key words for "I'll have John make tea."

"Thank you." The steps creaked a little on her way up, but other then that, there wasn't any sound. She stopped at the doorway, hesitant to go in. Another nudge from Sherlock pushed her inside. He led her to the couch and had her sit. Kitty strayed her eyes to look at everything but him; her thoughts all jumbled on how to understand this situation. It was confusing; Sherlock was supposed to be furious and lock her up. That's what anyone would have done if they found out they had a murderer in their car. "So Claire," she gently pushed the girl off of her to talk, "what did you and Mrs. Hudson do today?"

"We made cookies and colored. I got to go to the store with her." Claire beamed proudly. Remembering Naomi had been killed, she thought for a moment. Pushing Claire onto the couch next to her, Kitty went over by Sherlock, who was currently texting away on his phone. "I'll be up shortly. I need to ask Mrs. Hudson something."

"Her answer will be yes but if you feel the need to do so, go ask. I'll watch Claire." Hearing her name, Claire rushed over to Sherlock and sat on the chair opposite of him, bunny in hand. Smiling at the two, Kitty turned around and walked down the stairs, passing John on the way.

"Hi Kitty."

"Oh... Hi John."

"Is Sherlock back also?"

"He's with Claire." John hummed.

"I think I'll leave them alone. I'll be upstairs if you need me." They brushed past each other and went in opposite directions. Kitty turned at the banister to face the door leading to Mrs. Hudson's quiet flat, the faint outline of the woman at her sink. Knocking before opening the door, Mrs. Hudson smiled.

"Hello dear."

"Hi." Something about this woman always made Kitty feel happy.

"John told me about the babysitter, I'm terribly sorry."

"Um, yes. It's very unfortunate." Before Kitty got another word out, Mrs. Hudson gave her a hug.

"I'd love to watch Claire."

"How- how'd you know?" Mrs. Hudson pulled away.

"I always know. Now!" She clapped her hands together. "I have tea for you and Sherlock. John would normally make it but he was out get groceries."


	6. Chapter 6

The room had gone quiet as soon as she brought up the tea. Sherlock said nothing, hands folded in front of his face and laying on the couch. Her daughter Claire was playing with his hair. John sitting in his chair, trying to figure out what had happened after Sherlock told him to get a taxi. Kitty, on the other hand, showed no signs of any emotions or thoughts. She just sat, in what is labeled "Sherlock's Chair", quietly drinking tea. Finally someone cleared their throat.

"What happened? I feel like someone died and everyone's refusing to tell me." Of course the first one to talk would be John. The military man was rather impatient when it came to information being withheld from him. No one replied to his question. "For Gods sake! Someone tell me what I missed." His voice was stronger this time and held more fury.

"Claire why don't you go see if Mrs. Hudson wants to play a card game with you? You could show her that new trick you learned." Kitty spoke softly. The girl nodded, her fingers falling from Sherlock's curls and her feet making small noises on the stairs as she went down.

"John, you must promise me you won't react until you've heard the story." Sherlock had sat up now, staring straight at Kitty. At first she wondered if it was his was of asking if she wanted to tell someone else but then realized he wasn't giving her a choice. Her body shifted in her seat, trying to get more comfortable before she recited the same story she gave Sherlock. Putting down her tea, she took a deep breath and looked straight at John. "I'm the Countess." Kitty waited for him to scream or call the police (probably both would happen) but instead laughter rang out. She narrowed her eyes at the short man.

"Wait," he paused his laughter, "you're serious?" When he realized she was not pulling his leg, his mouth dropped. "What the hell Sherlock!? Why is there a murderer in our house? Why didn't you call the police?" John made a move to stand up. A pair of hands came out of nowhere and forces him down. To say John was shocked would be an understatement.

"You will listen to her John. She's telling us this at both her risk and Claire's." Sherlock's voice was deep and extremely forceful. After the danger of John calling the police passed, the hands on his shoulders lifted off. Kitty restarted and told her story. An hour had passed when she finally finished. By then Sherlock had sat down again, occasionally staring out the window, and Claire had come up and fallen asleep on his lap. When her daughter had come up, the story had been paused but as soon as Sherlock informed them that the girl had gone to sleep, she had resumed. Now all that was left, was Johns reaction. The silence between her last word and Johns first was unbearable.

"Bloody hell." Kitty watched as his eyes moved from her to Claire and back again. "So what's your real name then?" In her peripheral vision, Kitty saw Sherlock turn his attention back on her. She wondered about it for a moment but then realized she had never actually told him.

"Actually, I don't technically exist. When I was born there was never an actual birth certificate."

"Then what were you called as a child?"

"Diane, meaning hunter."

"So basically," John's eyes traveled back to Claire, "you left because of her." Kitty nodded.

"I didn't want the same thing happen to her. I didn't want her growing up without me or without support for people who care about her." John nodded, clearly showing that this information was a lot to take in and he had trouble believing it.

"You were forced to murder?" Once again, Kitty nodded. "Huh, and here I thought you just went to college when you were younger and had the same start as usually everyone else does."

"Far from it."

"What now? You're the number one suspect and if it's not you, who is it?"

"Clearly it's not her John, there's no if when it comes to this. It appears we have another rat's nest that needs to be taken care of. For the time being though, I demand you stay here, you and Claire. John and I can look out for you and you'll be here whenever we have questions." That demand put John into more shock; never before had Sherlock asked, in this case demand, someone to stay at his flat.

"Sherlock I can't int-"

"I insist. Claire and you can sleep in my room." Johns eyes were bug-eyed now, not believing this is the same roommate as a week ago. "And John stop staring at me like that." Sherlock didn't wait for an answer as he picked the girl up and walked to his bedroom. While he did so, John looked at her.

"What did you do to him?"

"What?"

"I've just never seen him like this." Kitty shook her head.

"I didn't do anything. If anyone did anything to him, it would be Claire." Their mouths shut as Sherlock's footsteps got louder.

"John you should go to bed. Mary is coming back tomorrow is she not?"

"Yeah.." John grunted a little as he stood up. Nodding his head towards the both of them, he disappeared up the stairs.

"You should go to sleep too."

"I'd rather not Sherlock. I'm not particularly tired right now." Sherlock shrugged and moved towards his violin.

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all." She watched as he picked up the violin. The moment he started playing, she started to feel sleepy. Kitty shook her head, wanting to listen to him play some more but eventually her eyes closed.

* * *

**Sherlock's POV**

* * *

He watched her eyes close and then continued playing for the next hour. When he was sure that he was the last one awake, he stopped. Glancing down at her sleeping figure on his chair he started to walk over to move her. He didn't like it that she was so stubborn; she knew she was exhausted and yet she refused to sleep! It aggravated him. She should trust John and him.

Picking her up, he noticed that she instantly curled into him and that she was slightly cold to touch. As he carried her to his room, he began thinking about why he was doing so. Sentiment? Perhaps. He looked down at the sleeping woman again and smiled. She certainly was a mystery and some part of him thought she still is. Sherlock set her down on the opposite side of the bed since Claire had taken up the space closest to the door. After doing so, he moved to go out the door and hesitated. Could he in fact... care about her? No, impossible. He scolded himself and walked out his bedroom door, quietly closing it behind him. He walked down the hallway and sat on the couch. A little rest might help him think straighter and as of right now, the woman and child in his room were safe.

* * *

A little pull on his shirt pulled him from his sleep. Quickly he turned over on the couch and saw a little girl staring at him. Putting a hand on his face, he sat up. "Morning Claire." Claire said nothing but hopped up on the couch and gave him a hug.

"Curls." She stated and started moving her hands through his hair. Waking up a tad playful, he gently grabbed the little Gotland started tickling her. Her laughter made him smile. After a few minutes he stopped and stood up.

"Breakfast?"

"Yes please!" He was surprised how fast the little girl hopped off the couch and ran towards the kitchen. He was even more shocked when she started pulling out silverware and dishes.

"What are we making?" He yawned, pushing his sleeves up he followed her lead as she took out eggs and butter. Seeing her struggle with the latter, he grabbed it from her and put it on the table. Normally the table would have experiments on top of it but he had gotten up in the middle of the night and had cleaned it off.

"Eggs and toast."

* * *

**Back To Normal POV**

* * *

Stretching, Kitty fell out of bed. "Ouch!" She jumped up and panicked for a few seconds, unaware of where she was. Remembering Sherlock had insisted she stay at his house, she relaxed a little. Kitty glanced at the bed and noticed Claire was gone. She yawned and walked out of the bedroom. Suddenly the aroma of cooking reached her. The thought of Sherlock making breakfast made her laugh. Kitty continued walking and the kitchen came into view. Standing next to each other, Sherlock and Claire (on a stool) were making something on the stove. "What's this?" Kitty questioned, slightly confusion.

"Mommy!" Claire turned around and jumped of the stool, running towards her.

"Breakfast." Sherlock turned around, a towel on his shoulder and a frying pan in his right hand. Minutes later they sat down and ate. Kitty couldn't stop smiling. It seemed like something a family would do, sit down and have breakfast together.

"Kitty! Sherlock! There's been another!" John came running down the stairs, throwing his jacket on in the process. He stopped short after reaching the last step. "Oh, having breakfast?" Kitty noticed Sherlock roll his eyes before standing up. Sighing softly, Kitty also stood up.

"Come on Claire. I bet you can take your food downstairs."

* * *

**This one's a bit shorter than the others, sorry. The next chapter will be a tad longer :) Thank you so much for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Hi! Before you continue this story, please note that there is some torture in this chapter and probably the next. Just a warning. **_

_**Thank you for reading! The next chapter update will be within the next week. I've had exams and that's why this chapter took longer to write. Enjoy!**_

* * *

Donavon said nothing to Sherlock after he bent under the police line. In fact, she refused to even look towards Kitty. Smirking at the fright she had given the horrible woman, Kitty trudged past all police officers and went up the stairs of the abandoned mill house. "Her name is Calli Sylvester, age 23. Same memo and everything." Lestrade ran a hand through his hair as he gave details. Kitty could see he was slowly losing it. "Christ! We need to get this Countess or whatever she calls herself." Kitty saw Sherlock and John glance at her.

"Actually," Sherlock stood up from examining the body, "this isn't the Countess."

"What?" Lestrade questioned, crossing his arms, clearly not happy Sherlock had suddenly changed his mind.

"Yes... clearly the same MO, but we have a copycat here. The Countess is gone, she left a message." She wanted to roll her eyes at Sherlock. That reasoning wasn't going to get past the police detective.

"Sherlock..." Lestrade's voice was that of warning. "What did you find out?"

"Nothing." Right then, Kitty wanted to bang her head on the wall. Sherlock had answered too quickly.

"Bull. Now tell me or you're off the case." Sherlock looked aghast.

"You can't do that."

"Sherlock I let you back in on these cases with your promise to tell me what you knew and when." Kitty didn't need to look to tell Sherlock had closed his eyes in frustration.

"We should move to a safer place." Her voice was flat, any emotion she was feeling was left out. For a moment she wanted to shudder at the fact that she was closing herself off. Before anyone could respond, she turned and walked away. Kitty failed to see Sherlock's mouth drop, John's grim face, and Lestrade looking completely lost, like a child who missed a day of school thus missing a class joke. She kept walking, down the stairs and onto the street. In her head she counted, seeing how long it would take for them to catch up. Kitty would have doubted they would even come if not for the footsteps behind her. By the time she realized the footsteps didn't match Sherlock's long strides (though she had no idea why she would pay attention to how the detective walked) or John's hurried footsteps or, in fact, Lestrade's temperamental feet, it was too late.

* * *

To say she was in pain, would be an understatement. Her head felt like a brick had been smashed against it. Her right arm felt broken and her left ankle twisted. Kitty could practically feel the bruises across her body turning into a nasty purple color. What had happened? Keeping her eyes closed, she tried to recall the events. Vaguely she remembered waiting for the three men to catch up with her then having her face slammed against a brick wall, which made perfect sense. The attacker was male, no doubt, and highly trained. When Kitty add attempted to fight back...well something odd was that she couldn't remember fighting back. She struggled when she felt rope tied around her wrist but the rope never got looser. "Ah my little kitten is awake." Instantly she froze. A hand touched her arm and moved upward. In no time it was in her hair a pulling her head back. "Why won't you open your eyes?" The voice got a little higher and was in a tone that made her shudder mentally. Kitty refused to give him the satisfaction of her obeying him. The grip on her hair tightened and a demand to open her eyes came soon after. "Open dammit!" Suddenly the hand left her hair and fear started to make her hands shake. From farther away the voice spoke again. "Do you remember how we break in the newbie's?" Her thoughts went haywire after he said that. Finally opening her eyes, she stared at the open person in the world that made her blood run cold. He made Moriarty look like a saint.

"Hi Matt. So glad to see you again." She snarled. He smiled, making her blood colder than the wind on Antarctica. Then he raised the whip in his hands. Her screams echoed around her as the torture continued.

* * *

**Sherlock's POV  
**

* * *

He stepped out of the house exactly a minute and thirty seconds her. What in the world was she planning on telling Lestrade? Sherlock saw no sense in her wanting to tell him; Lestrade can deal with the fact that Sherlock had changed his mind. He gathered himself together rather quickly after his mouth dropped in shock. "Let's go." Although she made no sense, he reasoned that it was her choice and he shouldn't get involved. There...that bothered him; he wanted to be involved, to protect her, and he didn't understand why.

Glancing around, he saw no sign of her. Odd. The only people around were the ordinary police officers and Sally. Thankfully, behind him, John saw his dilemma and decided to go ask where Kitty had gone. The officer that was about three inches taller than John; his left hand rested on his belt while he used his right hand to point in the direction Kitty went. Sherlock immediately took off in the direction, ignoring Lestrade's request to explain what was happening. Something felt wrong to him, very wrong. Turning the street corner, he saw no sign of the mother.

"Where'd she go?" John stood next to him, slightly out of breath from having to catch up.

"Something's wrong."

"What?" Seeing that Lestrade had caught up rather quickly, Sherlock walked to him until he could almost smell the new cologne the detective inspector was trying out.

"Put out a BOLO now; Katherine Larson." Confusion filled Lestrade's eyes and a gasp from John told Sherlock he had figured it out.

"I'm not putting anything out until you tell me."

"So help me God…you will put out a BOLO right now Lestrade!" Sherlock's voice deepened, the anger clearly seeping through.

"Sherlock, he doesn't know." John stated. Moaning in frustration, Sherlock kicked at the brick building.

"Alright! Alright! Calm down! Jesus.." Lestrade reached for his phone and put out the signal that the second anyone saw Officer Larson, they were to report right away. After the message was sent, Lestrade walked up to the seething consulting detective. "Now tell me what's going on." Suddenly Sherlock was very conscious of the fact that they were out in public.

"Not here. We'll go to my place."

* * *

Sherlock slammed the door open, not particularly caring if he scared Mrs. Hudson or not. Inside his mind, he was yelling at himself. How could he have been so stupid? Letting Kitty out of his sight would be something Mycroft's men would've done. Then the fact that she was taken in broad daylight made him even more furious with himself. Mrs. Hudson came out with an arm protectively around a curious little girl. His facial features softened. "Hi Claire." The girl giggled.

"Hi Curls." Standing behind Sherlock, Lestrade was completely shocked at how Sherlock's voice and body language dramatically changed when the girl had shown up. The man was even more shocked when the girl ran up to give Sherlock a hug and had received a hug back.

"I have to do some work, sorry Claire." Sherlock knelt down to get a closer look at the young girl. "As soon as we're done," he bent close to whisper to her, "we'll make some cake." Claire jumped up and down excitingly, gave him another hug, and ran back to Mrs. Hudson. Once the two were gone from view, Sherlock straightened up and marched upstairs. "Tea John?"

"Right, of course." While waiting for John to finish making the tea, Sherlock motioned for Lestrade to sit on the couch. He started pacing back and forth, debating whether or not it was really his secret to tell, if he had the right to tell it. In the end he reached the conclusion that it was for her safety and therefore, Lestrade must be told. After all, she was going to tell Lestrade herself. As John was handing Lestrade a cup of tea, Sherlock blurted out.

"She's the Countess." If the situation wasn't serious, Sherlock might have chuckled at Lestrade spitting his tea back into his cup.

"What the hell Sherlock?"

"She was forced to kill. Not her fault. She got out of it when she realized she was pregnant. The reason she's missing now is because someone found out she is still alive." All while taking, Sherlock's hands were moving all over the place. John gaped at him.

"Sherlock, way to go easy."

"Who cares about easy." He snapped. "She was going to tell him anyway and right now her life is in danger!" John put his hands up.

"Calm down mate."

* * *

**Meanwhile**

* * *

She gasped for breath. Somewhere between the lashes given to her, she had fallen unconscious. Kitty grimaced in the little pain she could feel. After a few lashes she had gone numb.

"Weak." He whispered in her ear. "You can do better than that." With that, he poured water on her back. Pain exploded and was the only thing she could think of. "Oh how I've missed you." Matt came around and kneeled in front of her. He gripped her face and forced her to look up at him. "Why would you do that? Pretend you were dead…it was so mean." He cooed. The response he got was spit in his face.

"Go to hell." Matt slapped her.

"You're coming with me." Watching him stand up and walk a few steps away, she allowed her head to hang. Her arms were sore from being held up by ropes and her feet ached. "By the way, I haven't told Drew yet. I wanted to have my fun with you before he killed you." With that, he left. Kitty groaned and slowly lifted up her head. In the corner farthest from her was a video camera, a great spot to see the entire room, and a small speaker, like the ones found in schools. Moving her eyes to the right, she saw a large tray with various…items used to break in the newbie's. She shuddered at the thought of repeated the horror of initiation. The rest of the room was dark and empty, only one door to get in and out. Slowly, Kitty allowed her body to go limp a little, in order to help conserve energy and allow her body to heal a little before Matt came back.

"I know you can hear me," she talked, voice hoarse but still strong, "and trust me when I saw the second I get out of here, I'm going to kill you." A sing-song voice came onto the speaker near the camera.

"No you won't."


	8. Chapter 8

Lestrade sat down. "So you're basically saying that we've had the Countess with us this entire time?" Sherlock tapped his foot, clearly annoyed at the fact that this was taking so long. They should be out there looking for her.

"Yes!" He shouted. Sherlock was alarmed by how he snapped but shook it off before continuing. "And she's missing. We need to find her and when we do; you will not arrest her Lestrade." Glaring at the older man, Sherlock watched Lestrade hesitantly nod. "Good, now can we please go?" His voice turned whiny, like a child who was waiting impatiently to leave. Sherlock and John already had their coats on and were at the door, waiting for the final answer.

"Fine, let's go." Lestrade jumped up and hurried after them.

* * *

A punch to her jaw made a small cracking sound, signaling that it had been moved out of place and was on its way to being broken. The man above her stopped, huffing and circling around her. Although she was in a room, Kitty could pretty much guess that it was some unholy hour in the morning that he had chosen to use her as a punching bag. Matt had purposely avoided her eyes, ears…well anywhere near her head until that last punch. It was obvious that he wanted her in pain but still conscious enough to be able to listen to his voice. She watched as he pulled a chair out from behind the tray, it scratching the floor as he did so. Shivers ran up and down her spine. One of the only things she couldn't stand was that noise. It was just as bad as nails on a chalkboard. Matt spun the chair around and sat on it backwards, leaning against the backrest. "So Kitty," he purred, in attempt to make a joke, "what have you been up to?" Her lips kept shut. "Answer me." Still, she refused to talk. The result was a sigh and him getting up, punching her in the stomach, and then sitting down again.

"Since you won't talk," he snarled, "I guess I will. It's been a bit lonely since you were gone, no one to play with. Drew was so sure that you wouldn't try to leave again; he thought he had you wrapped around his little finger. The idiot. Anyways, he was very upset when he found your fake body." He did quotation marks with his hands. "Bravo. You're stunt though, was not unseen by me. I saw right through it and have been attempting to find you for a few years." Matt stood up and laughed. It was a disturbing, sinister laugh. "Imagine my surprise when I found out you had a daughter!" That fired Kitty up.

"You touch my daughter," she coughed, a little blood coming out as she did so, "and I swear to God you'll wish it was the last thing you did. I may not have been in the business lately, but I still know how to make someone beg." Again, he laughed.

"Whose is she? What man would sleep with you?" His eyes widened slightly, "She's not that silly consulting detective's is she?" Having fallen silent again, Kitty did nothing but glare up at the man. Suddenly his hands were in her hair, pulling it back. "Who is her father?" The man barked, spittle hitting her face. When she didn't say anything, he backed up. Then he started laughing. This laugh was different than before. It was even more disturbing and very eerie; goose bumps appeared on her skin. "She's mine?" The laughter grew and he was almost doubled over. "Well this is a nice surprise."

* * *

"Do we even have any clues on who took her?" Lestrade inquired as soon as the cab door was shut.

"It's not who, it's _where_. We already know who took her; obviously someone from her previous career. But we can assume that she is still in London, they wouldn't risk taking her long distance."

"Well then," Lestrade huffed, "any clues on where she is?" Silence fell and occasional glances were given at the detective in the middle. Sherlock stayed quiet, bringing his hands to his lips and delving into his mind palace. It would have to be secluded or at least underground, away from prying ears. That way when they torture her, and they will, her screams won't be heard. Also they wouldn't be able to take her on the train; too many questions. So she would have to have been taken by car to this place, possibly cab if they could pay the person off but the liability of that person eventually cracking would solidify the fact that she was taken by a personal car. Of course they could kill the cab driver except that would be messy. No, they wanted her off the map completely.

"Basement." Sherlock lifted up his head. "We need to look at all the basements in a ten…no eight…mile radius of where she disappeared. Cab driver, please take the next left."

* * *

"They'll be looking for me." Kitty stated as Matt walked back in.

"Maybe…but will they find you in time before I kill you?" He laughed again and went to the table of tools, his back turned on her. "You see, if Drew were here, he'd probably want to teach you another lesson. But he's not, I am. You hurt me Diane." Matt turned around, scalpel in his hand. Staring at it for a few seconds and twirling it in his hands, he looked up; his curly hair hitting his eyebrows and a glint in his eyes. He took a few steps forward. Struggling, Kitty pulled desperately on the chain that kept her wrists in place.

"Matt, stop! Stop it! Let's talk about this!" Kitty tried moving as far from him as she could as he advanced.

"I think we're beyond the step of talking." His hand flicked out and grabbed her arm, steadying it. Quickly, he pulled up the scalpel and made a long cut. "You left me twice. We could've been happy." A hurt look glazed over him and he stepped away. Then a malicious smirk appeared on his face. "I'll do your quote 'friends' unquote a favor. How about I send them a text?" From his front pocket he pulled out an all black phone and turned it on. The sound of his fingers hitting the keys echoed for a few seconds. "Done. Now, where were we?"

* * *

_Uhhh._ _Uhhh._ "Jesus Sherlock! Why didn't you change your message tone?" John blurted out, staring at his best friend who was currently kneeling down and staring at something. He watched as Sherlock came out of wherever he was in his mind palace and pat around his coat for his phone. "Lower left pocket Sherlock." John stepped closer to Sherlock, in case he was needed.

"Brilliant!" Stepping back, he winced a little as the man yelled. "John," suddenly his shoulders were being gripped, "a clue."

"Fantastic, what is it?" The reply he got was a phone shoved in his face.

W 4B 2H GDTS 3R 1L

And you're there.

"And what does that mean?"

"Oh come on John! West four blocks, two houses, go down the stairs, three rights, one left; hardly a difficult riddle. I'd say this guy is at an elementary level at the most. Come along John! Lestrade!" John watched as his friend took off in the opposite direction the text stated. Shrugging his shoulders at the police detective, he ran off after Sherlock.

* * *

Kitty screamed, but no sound came out; not like she expected any to. Her voice had left about an hour ago, give or take. Another scream went unheard as Matt swung at her with his whip, again. It was to no surprise that he was favoring the whip. When she was younger and had been his partner in breaking in the newbie's, he had favored it then also. She went unconscious for a few moments but was quickly brought back by a sharp sound. "Go-" Kitty drew in a ragged breath, "to hell you bastard." Thoughts ran through her head, mostly thoughts about Claire. _I can't leave her alone…_

* * *

"Sherlock, we should probably call the police." John tried to reason with him, pulling on Sherlock's sleeve and holding him back from marching into the building. It was a small bookshop that was dusty and clearly not many people went into it. The first clue that gave the place away was that it seemed perfectly normal; no broken shutters, no suspicious people lurking about, no nothing. When Sherlock had stepped into the building though and went to the science section, as if to be looking for a specific book, he noticed the shop owner look towards him several times and place both hands under the desk. After picking a certain book (about biology) that he was sure Claire could enjoy, he quickly paid for it and left. He informed Lestrade of the matter that the shop owner had a handgun under the checkout corner and the rug in the corner had a door underneath it.

"There's not enough time! By the time they arrive it'll be too late." Turning around, Sherlock rushed back into the building. A few seconds later John was at his heels doing his best to catch up to his friend's long strides. Lestrade on the other hand, the only _reasonable_ one, chose to call the rest of his squad and back-up.

A thumping noise made Matt pause, which allowed Kitty to take a breath. "Dammit." She watched as he moved across the room quickly, setting down his whip and grabbing up a knife. He looked at it for a second and twirled it in his hands, then walked over by her. She whimpered and started to move away, panicking. Her wrists pulled on the chains, bruising them even more.

"Matt no…come on. We were buddies once." Tears started to form at her eyes. As he put the knife near her the only door was kicked open showing Sherlock and John. If not for the situation being so serious, she would've laughed at how cliché the entrance was and how dramatic Sherlock made it look. Matt turned away from her for a second, looked at them, and then with a cry turned to stab her. Gunshots were heard. Looking up, eyes wide, Kitty saw Matt's eyes widen and his grip on the knife loosen. She turned her head to the left, refusing to watch as his body crumbled to the floor.

"Katherine!" Lifting her head a little, she saw Sherlock moving toward her while John still had his gun trained on Matt's body.

"Sher-Sherlock." She whispered, her voice breaking a little.

"Stay awake, it's going to be okay." His hands went immediately to her face and then her wrists, taking out a small pin from his pocket and unlocking the clasps. First her left hand was freed, her arm collapsing at her side. After her other hand was freed, Sherlock gripped onto her arm lightly, unsure as to what exactly she had been through. Kitty hesitantly took a step, her body shaking as she did so. On the third step her body collapsed, Sherlock catching her. "Hey," he soothed her, "it's gonna be alright…just hang on."


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm extremely sorry this update has taken so long.**

**I promise the next one will be much sooner.**

**If you see any spelling errors, please mention them. :) Thanks**

**Also, many thanks for the reviews. :)**

* * *

To say she hurt would be an understatement. From nearby, a steady, soft beeping noise started to annoy her. It was then that she realized where she was and what had happened. Following Sherlock catching her after she stumbled, Kitty had gone unconscious from lack of sleep and all the pain she was in. Unknown to her, Sherlock had scooped her up and taken her to the ambulance, leaving John and the police to deal with almost dead Matt. He had been asked by the paramedics if he was related and wanted to come in the ambulance but Sherlock had decided it was better not to. It was then Sherlock decided he should get a cab and follow behind.

"Sir you can't go in there yet. She hasn't regained consciousness." The hushed whisper came from outside her room's door. It brought her out of her thoughts of the torture and how Claire was doing enough to realize she had a visitor. Shifting around a little, trying to get into a more comfortable position, she winced and stopped herself from crying out. _Right….the whip._

"I don't mind. I need to be there when she wakes." replied a deep voice, one she easily recognized now as Sherlock.

"Sir, I really must pro-"Quickly, her door opened revealing the two men. The two men stood there and looked at her, eyes wide with shock. When the doctor dropped the pen he was holding, things seemed to be un-paused.

"You're awake." Sherlock said, mouth finally closing.

"Now who's stating the obvious?" Her voice came out extremely rough and her throat was so dry, she started coughing the second after she finished speaking. Sherlock hurried over to her and handed her the glass of water right next to her bed. Sipping it, her vision started to get better and she was able to see the doctor much better.

"Ms. Larson, I'm glad to see you're awake." She watched as the doctor glanced back and forth between her and Sherlock. "I know you just woke up, but I insi-"

"Please leave." Sherlock interrupted rudely, taking the doctor aback. "If she needs any help, she has me." Shocked, Kitty watched as Sherlock covered the floor in less than three seconds, pushed the doctor out, and then closed the door. Hearing him sigh, she turned to put down her water on the side table. A hiss from her caused Sherlock to be right back to her side.

"Sherlock," Kitty watched him ignore her as he gently helped her back into the sitting position. "Sherlock." Her voice grew a little harder. Again, the man ignored her. It wasn't until she forcibly pushed his hands away that he stopped. "Sherlock….I'm alright." Carefully she took her hands away and put them up. "See?" When Sherlock turned to face her, she stifled a small gasp. His eyes looked a little red and dark circles were underneath them. All in all, he looked terrible. "What happened?"

"You almost died…that's what happened." His voice was soft.

"But I didn't…I'm right here." When Kitty saw he wasn't willing to talk about what happened after she passed out, she decided to ask something else. "How's Claire?"

"She's good. Mrs. Hudson has been spoiling her. She thinks that you got into a car accident." Kitty nodded her head; the lie was a good one.

* * *

"Great to see you awake Kitty." John had come to visit Kitty and was not surprised (at all) that Sherlock was already there. In fact, he got there when they were arguing when she could leave. Sherlock had been insisting that she let Mycroft's doctors take care of her and Kitty had made up her mind about wanting to go home. John laughed for several minutes before he decided to enter the room. The argument ceased and Kitty smiled. Although he knew it was just a front, Watson decided to leave it be. There was no need in bringing up thoughts all so soon.

* * *

"When is he going to ask her out?" On this visit, Lestrade and come with John. After a few minutes of talking to Kitty and saying she wasn't allowed back at the police station until her bruises were all gone, he departed.

"I bet in the next week." John grinned.  
"I'll take you on that bet. I'll give it two weeks. 20 pounds?" The two men shook and went their separate ways at the hospital doors.

* * *

After reluctantly agreeing, Kitty stayed in the hospital for a few more days, allowing the doctors to oversee her well-being. By the end of the week, she threatened Sherlock that if she didn't go home within the next day she was getting up and walking out by herself. Her excuse was the hospital food was going to make her sicker but truthfully; she just wanted to go home and be with Claire. A few seconds after getting in the door of 221B Baker Street, the little girl had her hands wrapped around Kitty's neck in a tight hug.

"It's good to see you dear." Mrs. Hudson gave her a small pat on her shoulder before retreating back to her kitchen. Claire, giggling, ran after the woman mentioning pie. Smiling brighter than she had in a while, Kitty grabbed her clutches and gripped the railing.

"Sherlock you should go up before me. It'll be a while since I get up the stairs." Stubbornly, Sherlock shook his head and told her that he was going to stay behind her in case she fell. Determined to prove him wrong, she shakily took a step up; one down and several more to go. On her third step, she stepped wrongly and as she yelped in pain, Sherlock's arms picked her up. Knowing that her face was bright red, she turned her face inward to Sherlock's shirt, hoping to block her face from the observant man. A deep chuckle told her that he had seen. In a quarter of the time it had taken for her to get up three steps, Kitty was being put down on Sherlock's chair.

"I'll go get some tea." Kitty nodded and relaxed into the black chair. She watched as Sherlock gracefully heated up the tea and poured two cups. It was enchanting really, and even though she knew staring was rude, Kitty couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away. Clearing her throat, she asked for some honey. "Of course." She watched as Sherlock reached up to retrieve the honey from the top shelf in a cabinet. If he had reached any farther, his shirt would've come untucked. Shaking her head at the thought of even _wanting_ to see that happen, Kitty decided to bring up another conversation.

"How long am I on house arrest?" Her voice was joking but she saw Sherlock tense up a bit. Retracting her last words, she realized he might've thought of her still being in that house and being forced to stay there. "Sherlock, I'm just kidding. I just wanted to know if I'm going to spend the weekend here or the next week."

"I um…" Kitty watched as he stumbled over his words as he brought her teacup over. Her eyes lit up as she took a drink. As observant as the man was, she wasn't expecting him to remember how much honey she liked in her tea or how much sugar. "I was hoping you'd stay a bit longer." She watched as his face went a little red. "Just so, you know, we know you're healed." Nodding, she set the tea on her knee.

"Sounds fine to me. I think Claire likes hanging out with Mrs. Hudson." A relaxing silence fell over the two.


End file.
